Lyra stirred at first light, if it could be called that. The sky outside was silver, washed pale. No warmth. No promise.
She stretched once, slow and feline, then reached for her coat.
Kaal blinked groggily from his place against the stone. "Do you ever just… ease into things?"
"Only when I'm dying," she replied, already pulling her coat on. "And even then, I like to make it dramatic."
He sat up with a grimace, breath catching in his ribs.
She tossed him a flask without looking. "Try not to collapse on the way down. It's bad for morale."
He drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've had worse mornings."
"You keep saying that like it's a comfort."
They packed in silence.
The mist had thickened again, curling through the trees in quiet tendrils.
Kaal's body ached with every step. But he didn't complain.
The sun was a dull coin overhead. Weak, hazy. Like it wasn't sure if it wanted to rise or not.
Kaal adjusted the strap of his satchel. His hand still tingled from the climb. Not from the fall, he used to pain, but something else. Something left behind in his skin.
A pressure. A whisper beneath the nerves.
She walked a few paces ahead, quiet as a shadow. Her coat was darker today, damp.
They moved quietly, as if the forest had warned them not to speak.
The trail dipped into a shallow valley, mist brushing his legs like a warning. The storm had passed, but its weight still pressed on the trees, and on him. Every step jarred something deep. Branches creaked above. The cold clung, sharp and unforgiving.
Kaal walked stiffly, favoring his right side. Lyra didn't offer to help, and he didn't ask.
She walked ahead, scanning the underbrush, blades sheathed but fingers twitching every so often. He'd noticed that about her, how she didn't seem jumpy until you paid attention, and then everything was tension held in a body pretending not to care.
"You're limping," she said without looking back.
"Observation or concern?"
"Just a friendly reminder not to die before I get paid."
He huffed a breath that wasn't quite a laugh. "Understood."
They reached a clearing by midday. Half-fallen stones jutted from the ground in uneven patterns, like ancient gravestones. Moss clung to everything. The air here felt heavier. Too still.
Kaal's skin itched. Not with pain, but with something else, like the air itself was vibrating too low to hear. He knelt beside one of the stones and brushed away dirt with his sleeve. Spirals. Carvings worn smooth by time.
"I've seen these before," he murmured.
Lyra tilted her head. "Yeah?"
"In a book," he added quickly. "Back in the palace."
She crouched next to him. "Meaning?"
"I don't know. They're old. Pre-Zmryt, maybe. Ritualistic."
"Magical?"
He hesitated. "My tutor would say no. But he was always uncomfortable with anything he couldn't make sense of."
Lyra's mouth twitched. "Sounds like a blast at parties."
Kaal straightened with a wince. "He was never invited."
They left the clearing soon after, following a dry streambed down through the valley.
The further they walked, the stranger the trees became, leaning inward, growing in ways that defied logic. The bark was pale, smooth as bone.
The dull hum under his skin hadn't stopped since the clearing. It felt like being watched from the inside out. He didn't tell Lyra. He wasn't sure she'd believe him, and worse, he wasn't sure he believed himself
Kaal said nothing, but he kept close behind her now. His breath came shorter with each mile.
She noticed.
"You sure you're up for this?"
"I'm fine," he said automatically.
"You're not," she replied. "You look like someone left you out in the rain too long."
"I've looked worse."
"You've been worse," she corrected. "There's a difference."
Kaal stumbled slightly on a root but caught himself. "If this is your version of caring, it needs work."
"I only practice on people I don't hate."
They reached a ridge just before dusk. From the top, the world unfurled in mist and stone, valleys rippling outward like folds in an ancient map. Somewhere far below, a river glinted silver.
Lyra knelt at the edge, scanning the horizon.
Kaal stood beside her, squinting into the haze. "It's beautiful," he said quietly.
She looked at him, surprised. Then out at the view again. "It's a long way to fall."
"I already did that part."
A pause.
Then, softer: "Thanks, if I forgot to mention. For pulling me back up."
She shrugged. "Like I said, seemed easier than carrying your corpse."
But the words didn't have their usual bite.
They made camp just below the ridge, tucked between two boulders. Kaal sat against the stone, wrapped in his cloak, watching shadows stretch across the valley.
"I keep thinking about what she said," he murmured.
Lyra glanced up from where she was checking her gear. "Who?"
"My mother. The Queen."
Lyra nodded once. She didn't mock the title. Not this time.
"She said Eternity calls to the worthy. That maybe... maybe that's why I got better. Why I'm still here."
Lyra didn't answer at first. Then: "You believe that?"
He looked at her, solemn. "I have to."
She studied him, then looked away. "Must be nice. Having someone believe you're still worth saving."
Kaal didn't respond.
The wind shifted.
Both of them froze.
There was no sound.
But something had changed.
Lyra rose slowly, drawing one blade without a word. Kaal tensed, reaching for the dagger she'd given him days ago.
Nothing moved.
But they both felt it.
A presence. Watching. Not close. But not far.
Lyra scanned the treeline. "Whatever it is, it's been following."
Kaal's voice was low. "How long?"
"Since the clearing, maybe longer."
He swallowed. "Why?"
"If I knew," she muttered, "I'd have stabbed it already."
She didn't sheath her blade again.
That night, Lyra didn't sleep.
She sat with her knees pulled up, watching the sky through the canopy.
Her side itched again. The mark. She'd never liked it. Too sharp-edged to be natural, even as a child.
She'd asked her guardian once what it was. He'd said it was just a scar from before memory. Said some people are born with ghosts.
He'd smiled when he said it.
She didn't believe him anymore. Not after what she felt when that shadow got close.
Across the camp, Kaal shifted in his sleep. His hand twitched. His fingers curled into a fist, then opened again.
She watched him for a moment longer than she meant to.
Then looked away.